


Call Me Darling (And Sweep Me Away From Myself)

by orphan_account



Series: Sweep Me Away Verse [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alpha Bucky Barnes, Alpha Natasha Romanov, Alpha Sam Wilson, Alpha Tony Stark, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, F/M, Feminist alpha Natasha, Forced Courting, M/M, Multi, Omega Bruce Banner, Omega Clint Barton, Omega Steve Rogers, Omega Thor, Sexism, Steve centric
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-28
Updated: 2015-06-03
Packaged: 2018-03-03 22:58:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2891246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Steve comes out as an omega, US Regulation O. 17, which states all omegas privy to US national security information must be married within a year of beginning field work, requires that even Captain America has to comply. While the whole country is vying for Steve's attention, how is an ex-Soviet supposed to earn his hand?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Regulation O. 17

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is brought to you by Al is a filthy liar who said he would never multi-ship Steve, but here we are. It is also brought to you by 'I write so many omegaverses I am so sorry,' and by Omega Steve is now my life. It's also 12:30 in the morning right now, so please point out any errors, if anyone actually reads this monstrosity.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Then Steve looks at what Barton's watching. Specifically, who Barton is watching. The sound on the TV is off, but the subtitles are on, and Fox News is debating why Steve came out as an omega.
> 
>  
> 
> "Obviously, there are a lot of alphas out there who are very upset that their childhood hero is actually a heroine, but what I want to know is: why?" The alpha woman in the center asks.
> 
>  
> 
> "I really think this is more a question of Captain Rogers' current relationship status than it is about any special issues in the military." Says the alpha man on the left.
> 
>  
> 
> "Bullshit." Says Barton, from the floor.
> 
>  
> 
> After that, Steve stops watching the captions. "It isn't. It's about equality." He says.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I re-wrote and combined these first two chapters, and I'm planning on re-writing chapter three, and adding in chapter four. So, these chapters can be re-read if you want dialogue I didn't write at 2 am.

Growing up, Bucky always had to climb through the window into the infirmary, which was probably the only reason no one other than Bucky ever knew Steve was an omega. It wasn't a big deal: Steve was an omega, Bucky was an alpha. No one else could know, because being an omega, especially one in Brooklyn, was dangerous.

Bucky was like the big brother Steve never had, and growing up, they always lived together, including after they left the orphanage. Only serious fight they ever had was about Steve enlisting. But they'd patched up.

Steve always misses Bucky, but no where near as much as he does right now. Because right now, for the first time in his whole life, someone other than his Mama (who's long gone, God bless her), and Bucky, will know he's an omega.

As Steve steps up to the podium, he tries to take deep breaths, to calm down. "Good morning. I was asked to hold this press conference by my superiors, but I'm glad to have it, actually." He stops, and smiles nervously at the audience. "I, Captain Steven Grant Rogers, am an omega." The noise in the room explodes.

 

"Quiet, please! I wanted to make this announcement for an important reason. Omegas in the military, today, while accepted, and not forced to hide, are often the targets of sexual violence. I'm doing this as not only a way to clear my conscience, but to draw attention to the worthy cause of preventing..." Steve launches into the script that they'd given him. It's an excellent speech they prepared, and he's glad to be doing anything for those soldiers, but he can't let himself think, or process what people are saying right now.

He feels like a coward, but he can't help it.

\----

After the press conference, the shield agents that escorted him to the press conference escort him back out. They escort him all the way back to Stark tower, where he apparently has to stay, until his apartment in D.C. Is deemed "safe."

Steve is never really safe, but not having an IED go off in his apartment is very important, so he goes willingly.

Most of the team already make base there anyway, Steve just wanted to live somewhere a little farther from New York. There are too many memories of people he'll never see again. And too many people he could really do without seeing ever.

Including Tony Stark, who, along with Dr. Banner, and Dr. Banner's exposed breasts, have just come around the corner.

Steve gets caught a hit like a deer in the headlights. It's not like he hasn't seen breasts before, and it's not like he's a blushing maid or anything, he just wasn't expecting it.

He must make a noise, because Dr. Banner turns the second he hears something. "Oh. Steve, I'm very sorry-" He starts to say.

Steve accidentally cuts him off, saying "No, I'm sorry, I was just- going through."

He darts into the living room before he sees anything else, and his face feels a bit like it's going to start his hair on fire.

And of course, Barton had to see that entire thing. “Nice moves, Cap.” Barton doesn’t look up from the television screen, but Steve can hear the smirk in his voice.

"I wasn't expecting them to be- in the hallway." Steve says. He winces at how ridiculous that sounds. It's Stark's house, they're married, it's perfectly normal.

Then Steve looks at what Barton's watching. Specifically, who Barton is watching. The sound on the TV is off, but the subtitles are on, and Fox News is debating why Steve came out as an omega.

"Obviously, there are a lot of alphas out there who are very upset that their childhood hero is actually a heroine, but what I want to know is: why?" The alpha woman in the center asks.

"I really think this is more a question of Captain Rogers' current relationship status than it is about any special issues in the military." Says the alpha man on the left.

"Bullshit." Says Barton, from the floor.

After that, Steve stops watching the captions. "It isn't. It's about equality." He says.

"Cap," Barton says as he turns, "from an omega who grew up in a circus, where everyone was a sexist asshole, that's gotta be the ballsiest move I've ever seen. Wish I could'a seen that when I was a kid. And if it makes the difference between some alpha in their forties collecting your figurines, and an omega kid believing they can be someone, tell anyone who gives you shit to go fuck themselves."

"Thank you." Steve nods at him. "...although I don't quite think I'd say that."

Clint laughs, and helps Steve move into his new floor.

\-----

It takes them fifteen minutes to move in all of Steve's things. It's sad, and Steve knows it.

"Cap," Barton says after they finish, "you ever go shopping with a billionaire's credit card?"

"I can't say I've ever been shopping, at least not for clothes." Steve says.

Barton claps him on the shoulder. "First time for everything. Besides," he says with a grin, "I've got some field experience."

So Clint Barton takes Steve on his first shopping trip. It's... Awkward, to say the least. Steve has never worn a brassiere before. Clint has to help him put it on, while simultaneously keeping Steve from trying to keep his hands off his breasts.

"Nothin' I haven't seen before." He says.

Steve tries not to melt into a puddle. He's a soldier: he can get through this.

After Clint has him buy "the most flattering shit in your size," they move on to a different store. Steve thinks they ought to have just gone to Sears, but Clint insists on getting him designer clothes.

Steve wasn't planning on needing anything this fancy, but as it turns out, he likes pretty dresses. Well, he knew he liked pretty dresses, when he saw them on other omegas, but he had no idea he would ever want to wear one.

He looks real swell in them, though, and Steve thinks he could get used to a skirt moving with him.

Makeup is a whole new hurdle. Steve's never gotten to wear makeup before, so he obviously has no idea how to apply it. Clint is amazing at putting it on other people, but there's one problem: Steve's combat training. Somebody coming toward his eyes with a sharp object, even if it is only a pencil, makes Steve flinch like crazy.

"The only way this is gonna hurt you is if you move. Just relax, and it'll be fine." Clint says, as he tries to put Steve's eyeliner on for the umpteenth time.

Eventually, the makeup gets on his face, and it looks great. Steve apologizes to Clint by showing him a restaurant that's still there from when he was a kid. He and Bucky used to come uptown and stare at the people inside, who could afford to eat in a restaurant, during the Great Depression.

The food is great, and he and Clint have more in common, personality wise, than Steve would've thought.

Clint takes him to see a picture, the first one he's been to since Steve came out of the ice. It's bright and flashy, and there's so much nudity in a movie that children are watching, it's verging on the exploitation of children. Clint is nice enough to glare at people when Steve chokes on popcorn. Loudly. Multiple times.

It's real nice of Clint to do, and Steve is immensely grateful when he realizes why he did it. They come back to the mother of all shit storms.

Stark is on the phone with someone, yelling about "...patriotism? He's a veteran, for fuck's sake!"

Dr. Banner is watching the television, taking measured breaths, glaring at the screen.

"And, in a confirmed statement by the US government, according to Regulation O. 17, Organized courting for Captain Rogers will begin within the next month, and last for the next six months." The newscaster says.

Steve hisses out a sharp "Fuck," and Clint puts a comforting hand on his shoulder. It doesn't help.

\------

Natasha is in France when she hears about Rogers. Surprise is an emotion an assassin never registers, but she definitely wasn't expecting it. Captain America, most American and macho of all alpha role models, is an omega.

And they want someone to marry him. Of course, she knows exactly what they're playing for, but she also knows how it could rebound in their faces. It's a disgusting idea anyway, one that they should've thrown out when it came up in the fifties. Cold War her ass. Sexist garbage, is what that is.

Director Fury sends her a message two hours after she sees it on the news, for "an emergency meeting of paramount importance," in the words of Tony Stark's AI.

Natasha is early, so she spends fifteen minutes drinking a latte, before she sends Clint a text message. 'Where are you?'

Clint texts her back, 'Just comin back from lunch w/Steve, chill out'

When he actually gets there, he's got Captain Rogers in tow, who is wearing a dress. Modest, navy blue, and more expensive than she would've thought. Natasha raises her eyebrow at Clint, and he shakes his head.

When Stark comes in, Banner in tow, she raises her eyebrow again. He gives a little head jerk towards Stark. Well, she can't say it wasn't a good investment. And if Stark noticed the money, which was doubtful, Clint had blackmail on everyone.

Thor comes in right after Stark, and Fury follows him in.

"I'm sure you've all seen the damn news reports?" Fury says.

"What news does the Director speak of?" Thor asks.

"I uh," Rogers starts, "told people I was an omega."

Thor stares at him. "...Is there something I do not see here?"

"I'm an omega." Rogers says, again.

"I do not understand. Is it unacceptable to fight when one is an omega?" Thor asks.

"Well, no, but people are much less friendly to omega soldiers than they are to alpha soldiers. A lot of people think it ain't right for omegas to be in the service." Rogers says.

Thor stares at him again, then strikes his fist on the table. "I thought midgardians were sensible! There is no shame in being a shield-maiden! Lady Sif and I have often killed twice as many opponents as the other warriors three!"

Natasha really has to think of a new expression for assassins whose gender radar is skewed. She also wishes she had a camera for the look on Clint's face.

"Wait, wait, Thor is an omega? Damn. Alphas dreams are droppin' like flies around here." Clint quips from across the table.

Director Fury looks really pissed, Natasha notes. She wonders, not for the first time, how Nick manages to glare harder with one eye than most people can with two.

"More to the point, Captain Rogers is now apparently more of an alpha's dream. The United States requires any omegas working in high clearance level positions to be married to 'trustworthy' alphas." Fury says.

"How the hell did Robin Hood over here get out of that one?" Stark asks.

"I've been married for ten years. I've just been married to myself. Not gonna turn me in, now, are you, Mr. Privileged Alpha?" Clint says as he sticks out his tongue.

"Alright, so Rogers can't marry himself. Why the hell don't we just have an agent marry him, and never let them near him, ever?" Stark shoots back.

"There's no one on Captain Rogers' clearance level who the Government would accept without public courtship. Believe me, if I could get away with not having our supersoldier get married, I would have figured out how to do it." Fury says.

"Is public courtship an actual requisite? I thought the law only required definite proof of marriage, and proof of surveillance over omegas during their heats." Dr. Banner asks.

Natasha finally chimes in at that. "It stipulates that anyone who isn't trustworthy with intel has to go through government screening, and engage in 'extensive, well documented courtship, in full view of proper custom and public commentary.' And anyone on the Captain's clearance level didn't get there by being nice."

Clint looks at her. Natasha also needs an expression for assassins who totally aren't panicking, but could definitely do with some mind reading abilities for ten minutes. "Why don't we do our own screening? Anyone who steps up to court Steve, we screen them through Shield networks, background checks, possible underworld connections, the works. Then they actually get to court Steve." In the part of her brain that isn't still watching the wheels turning in Clint's eyes, she files away how many times Clint has called Rogers 'Steve.'

"Captain?" Fury asks.

"...Alright. Can there be some kind of a stipulation for the kind of courting I'm used to seeing, though?" Rogers asks.

"Don't worry, Cap, I've got a couple of strings up on Capitol Hill that I should be able to pull." Stark pipes up.

As they all shuffle out, Clint pulls her to the side. After everyone's left, he uses to sign language. "Steve has amazing hearing." He signs. "You should court him."

"What? Do I look like a Captain America level alpha to you? And have you ever known me to need, or want, a wife?" She shoots back.

"Alright, I'll give you the need. But you're lonely, he's lonely, you've got similar  backgrounds." Clint gives her a look.

"I have a SIMILAR background to Captain America. Pardon my skepticism." Natasha glares back.

"No, but he was raised in the Great Depression. He's got the same shitty complexes as you, though." Clint says.

She narrows her eyes at him. "Since when have you been my therapist? And I highly doubt that."

"Since you were too stubborn to get one, 'Talia. Oh no? He threw himself over what he thought was a live grenade, for a pack of macho assholes he didn't even like. Sound familiar?" He says.

"No, actually. It sounds like idealistic, naïve crap." She says back.

"Oh no? You confronted an angry god over his strategy in an interplanetary war. Besides that, he's a nice person. Would you rather he got stuck with one of the weapons manufacturers of the world? Or some weird, rich groupie? A terrorist?" Clint gives her a hard look.

"Even if I wanted to, who would let me anywhere near Captain Goldie Locks? I'm a world class assassin trained by the Soviets. They'd shoot me before I said 'hello' to him." She glares back at him, again.

"They're screening people anyway. If you get SHIELD'S approval, that's gotta count for something." Clint says.

"Oh, yes, I'm sure the word of a man desperately trying to think of a way to get Rogers out of this is going to count for so much before a Senate committee." Natasha rolls her eyes at him.

"'Talia, this'll be good for both of you.You need somebody to make a DNR call." He grins at her.

She snorts. "You're all heart, Clint. He'll make an attractive widow."

"That's the spirit! Besides, I'm offering you personal espionage into what he'll like in courting gifts." Clint shoves her towards the door.

"Great." She says out loud. "I can't wait for this trainwreck to happen."

 


	2. Great Father Misogyny

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "'So,' she says as she cracks him a beer, 'how was gift opening?'
> 
> 'Awful. His floor looks like we've been banging giant bags of glitter.' Clint says as he perches on the stool across from her, and takes the beer bottle. 'Thanks. And, of course, the messages were killer. 'I'll make the plans from now on.''
> 
> She kicks her boots off, and climbs onto the counter. 'Suave.'
> 
> 'Yeah, really. Oh, hey, you should get him some jewelry. 'Said he likes necklaces.' Clint takes a swig from the bottle, and gives her another look."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I re-wrote like 95% of chapter 3, and quite a bit of 1 & 2, and I think they're much better now, so if you want to just re-read the first two chapters, you can, but it won't really change anything. Chapter 4 is all new, though, so if you just want to skip the re-written third chapter, look for the line break.

It takes two hours after their "group conference" for Steve to start getting gifts. Since all the Avengers are there, and Fury leaves almost as soon as he gets there, Stark suggests they make Steve watch the Harry Potter series.

Halfway through the movie, Stark stops it because the elevator opens to no less than fifteen of Stark Co. Interns, all carrying huge boxes full of gifts.

Every gift box is covered in glitter and ribbons, with name cards Steve can barely read. Pepper Potts follows them on the next elevator, also filled with interns and boxes. By the time they're done, Steve is sitting in the middle of a huge pile of boxes. In the forties, Steve couldn't have turned a head for love nor money, but give him seventy years and a press conference, he's got more courtship gifts than every omega from the orphanage combined. Hell, he's got more gifts than every omega in Brooklyn. He's not sure if he should be flattered, or insulted.

"Da-amn. How many groupies do you have?" Clint whistles.

"There are about five hundred more downstairs. " Ms. Potts says.

"Er, do you think you could just send them up to my room?" Steve asks her.

"Oh, of course! Tony, the stockholders want you to issue a statement on Captain Rogers announcement, if you wanted to..." Ms. Potts says.

"C'mon, Steve, let's give these guys a hand, and haul this crap up to your room." Clint pulls a box out from the side of the pile, then stacks another one on top.

Steve stacks three on his arm, and follows him out. "Thanks." He says, when they're in the elevator, by themselves.

"No sweat. Figured you might like to get away from the peanut gallery while you open these." Clint says, as he pushes the button on the elevator console.

"I have no idea what to do with any of it. This's never happened to me before. Nobody evenknew I was a dame, much less bought me something for it." Steve definitely feels a little lost, and Clint bumps his shoulder affectionately.

"Oh yeah, I get that. Joys of being a poor omega, right? Never even got to go to a presentation party, much less have one. Not that anyone would throw one for a freak like me." Clint glances at him.

"I guess people haven't gotten all that civilized, even in seventy years." Steve murmurs.

"Nah. People are still bigoted assholes. They just have more ways to discriminate against people." Clint scowls at the elevator panel. "But, hey, maybe you'll luck out."

"Oh, I’m sure I’ll get a real winner. Never know when," Steve pulls a card out of the box, "'John Serse' is going to come riding in and 'be my Captain.'"

"Someone actually wrote that?" Clint laughs.

"'To Steve Rogers, for whom I would gladly be your Captain,' winky face." Steve reads.

"God, what the fuck do you even say to that? ‘Sorry, but I’m not really into BDSM?’ “

Steve isn’t really sure he wants to know what BDSM is, but he laughs anyway.  
\---

In the end, it's not nearly as bad as Steve thought it'd be. Clint distracts him every time he opens an awful card, and he's got a list for every gift.

"Alright, so, in the 'total asshole' category, we have 117. In the 'eh' category, we have 62. In the 'just barely mediocre' category, we have 25. So, out of 184, we got zero takers." Clint says.

"Oh, I don't know about that. I think the one who sent me the box of chocolate from CVS was a real charmer." Steve grins.

"Correction: we have negative one takers." Clint says back.

Clint, Steve thinks, is the best thing that’s happened to him in years.

\-----

"Hey Steve." Clint says as they're lying on the floor in a gigantic pile of gifts.

"Hmm?" Steve glances over at him.

"You think Thor's into omegas?" Clint asks.

"Might be." Steve says from the floor.

"I'm gonna go for it. Have you seen his eyelashes?" Clint whistles next to him.

Steve makes a noncommittal noise, and looks up at the ceiling.

After that, Clint lets it drop, and they pack all the unwanted gifts, re-packaged, into the larger boxes, just in time for more boxes to come up.

"Ugh." Clint groans, and flops back down on the floor.

\-----

When they finally finish catalouging the boxes, it's 6 P.M. They started at 12 A.M. Steve orders them dinner from some ancient fourties pizza place. The delivery guy is a younger alpha, around her early twenties. She winks at Clint when he opens the door, and when he rolls his eyes, she says something about maling his eyes roll the other way. Steve coughs very pointedly at that, and takes the pizza boxes into the kitchen.

Clint doesn't punch her in the face, but only barely. "Asshole." He grumbles as they carry pizzas into Steve's new kitchen.

\-----

It's just after the seventh hour Clint and Rogers have been gone that Clint shows up in Natasha's apartment, holding a plate full of pizza. 

She opens the door, and waves him in with a raised eyebrow.

"So," she says as she cracks him a beer, "how was gift opening?"

"Awful. His floor looks like we've been banging giant bags of glitter." Clint says as he perches on the stool across from her, and takes the beer bottle. "Thanks. And, of course, the messages were killer. 'I'll make the plans from now on.'"

She kicks her boots off, and climbs onto the counter. "Suave."

"Yeah, really. Oh, hey, you should get him some jewelry. 'Said he likes necklaces." Clint takes a swig from the bottle, and gives her another look.

She rolls her eyes at him. "What kind of necklace?" 

"Woven, maybe? Or a new cross." Clint slips his phone out of his pocket. "Yeah, new cross would be good. Steve's catholic, I think."

Clint slips off the stool, and pockets his phone. "Shipment number seven just came in." Clint gives her a jaunty little salute, then walks out of the kitchen. "No half-assed presents, Nat!" He calls over his shoulder.

Natasha eats dinner while she calls in a favor, and orders a cross to be shipped to New York within five hours. If nothing else, Rogers has decent taste in pizza.

\-------

The next morning finds Natasha in Rogers' air vents, with her gift in one of the boxes. She made sure it was a tasteful black box, with gold ribbon and a label she had used her considerable calligraphy skills on. Absolutely no glitter, just in case. If she was going to court Rogers, she might as well go all out.

"Alright, so we got five takers so far. That's a ratio of about one to ten million." Natasha can hear Clint saying. 

"So there should be about ten more, with all these gifts." Rogers says.

Clint snorts. "Maybe. Hey," he tosses Rogers her box, "try this one."

Natasha does not let herself feel nervous.(An omega with braids, Natasha's sweaty palms only supressed by the mantra of 'mission, mission, this is only a mission.' The box, scavenged from a postal store, with its glittery front, drops to the floor, and the omega looks at the present like it's trash. She throws it to the ground, and Natasha's throat closes, not because of mission failure, but because of crushing disappointment. The extraction team crushes the necklace into dust, beneath their feet.)

Captain Rogers doesn't drop the box. He saves the ribbon, the box and the paper. He reads the card. He pulls the cross out of the box, and clasps it around his throat. It's sterling silver, elegant, but not ostentatious. 

"Who's that from?" Clint asks from the floor, as if he didn't know.

"Agent Romanov." Rogers says with a tinge in his voice that is undeniably admiration, and Natasha's chest swells with pride. Pride is something she's allowed to feel, now, as she watches Rogers trace the cross around his neck. Natasha doesn't believe in God, but.

"Nat? Nat Romanov gave you a courting gift?" Clint sits up, and winks at her. Asshole, she mouths.

"The nicest one in the pile." Rogers says, and Natasha lets herself smile when Clint turns away.

As Natasha drops down from the air vent into her room, five minutes later, Clint sends her a text. Told you so.

Natasha doesn't text back, just grabs a bottle of water, and hits the gym. While she works her way through the obstacle course, though, she thinks about her necklace around Rogers' throat. Around Steve's throat.

\---

As it turns out, not every alpha who sends him a courting gift is awful. There are some expensive, lovely presents in the pile, but Steve is almost speechless when the list of acceptable alphas climbs to 78.

Steve is real surprised about Agent Romanov, though. He hadn't thought she'd ever looked at him, much less wanted to marry him.

Clint went out to mail the rest of his acceptance letters, but Steve goes to deliver Agent Romanov hers. He knocks at her door, and stand there like an idiot for a while. She might not be home. Or, she could have company. Steve should just slip it under the door, but he doesn't want it to get damaged. 

Steve takes a deep breath, and knocks on the door again.

"Clint, I swear to god, if you lost your key again-" Agent Romanov, only clad in a pair of boxer briefs and an omega beater, towelling her hair dry, is standing in the doorway.

Steve was in the army for years, he's seen naked alphas. He's just never walked in on a half naked alpha who wanted to marry him. "Oh, I'm sorry, I'll come back later-" He babbles a little.

"No, no, Captain, let me just, go put some clothes on. Come on in." Agent Romanov disappears into the other room as he steps into the doorway. 

Agent Romanov's apartment is a lot like her. It's sleek and clean, with a minimalist design, but there are pops of color on the wall, and on the couches. Steve wanders over to a photo on the wall, of a smiling Clint and Natasha. Clint has a bandage peeking out from under his shirt, and Natasha has one arm in a sling, but they look happy.

"That's from Budapest." Natasha says from behind him.

"That's some impressive training." Steve says. "I didn't even hear you coming." He turns around, and gives her a smile.

She smiles back, a half smirk that curves her face. "They say I'm the best."

Steve raises an eyebrow. "They say, or you say?"

Romanov's smirk widens. "Both."

Steve looks at her for a minute, then remembers the envelope in his hand. "Ah, here. I figured I would just give you yours, seeing as you ah, live here." 

Romanov pulls the acceptance card from the envelope, and flips the card open. "Thank you." 

The other side of Romanov's mouth quirks, threatening to turn her smirk into a genuine smile. 

"No, no, thank you. For the cross. I lost mine, in the ice, and I haven't had time to buy another one and-" Steve's babbling a little, he knows. He cuts himself off with a little self-depreciating smile.

Romanov gives him a little nod. "You're welcome, Captain. Although I think it might scare off some of some of your other suitors."

Steve quirks an eyebrow at her, and her smirk curls across her face again. "They are bloodsuckers, after all."

Steve gives a very un-omega like snort, and Romanov puts the card on her mantel.

"Well, I'm going to get out of your hair, now. I, ah, hope you have a good day." Steve smiles.

He makes his way towards the door, and Romanov opens her mouth as though she's about to say something, and then says, "Have a good day, Captain."

"You can call me Steve, you know." Steve says as he leaves.

He hopes she does.


End file.
